


that's the way it should be

by DragonEyez



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Matchmaking, Other, Slow Burn, Trans Characters, everyone's in here - Freeform, hallmark movie style, lawyer Enjolras, no-ones white and everyones trans, this was supposed to be 2500 words and well, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 17:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19430254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonEyez/pseuds/DragonEyez
Summary: He had the good fortune to have landed a window seat, so he settled in and pulled the case files to review them once more. It was a good distraction from the feeling of rising terror that was beginning to simmer in his stomach as the plane taxied down the runway. As he read, Enjolras felt a familiar furrow in his brow. It was a fairly open and shut case, he had no idea why Joly and Bossuet were insisting he come down instead of finding any number of capable lawyers from the surrounding area.Maurice Grantaire, 37 years old, working on the cattle farm they’d inherited from some family member, unclear in the document who exactly had beqeauthed the title, now dealing with a claim of property invasion and vandalizing from a neighboring ranch, citing destruction of corporate machinery, animal cruelty, and destruction of crops. Even a first year pre-law could see the property dispute and the fact that this was nothing more than a land grab, and it was nothing that he himself specialized in, so he puzzled over the case, looking forsomethingthat could be the loose thread that unraveled the whole thing.





	that's the way it should be

**Author's Note:**

> this is a fic long in the making, [owed](https://twitter.com/thedaedpoets/status/1081374361024552960?s=20) to my good good [friend](https://twitter.com/jehancourf), whom i owe my life for being so patient with me. please enjoy this fic, aka save a horse, ride a cowboy aka country boy i love you. 
> 
> my extent of lawyering knowledge extends only as far as ace attorney and like some procedural shows i used to watch as a kid so please give me some grace.
> 
> title from [bright](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fUvYUpICW4) by echosmith

“Enjolras, you cannot pack this heavy.”

Combeferre was going through Enjolras’ luggage, frowning at everything in it.

“It’s under the fifty pound limit, Ferre, what are you talking about?” His voice was slightly muffled due to the fact that he was head-deep in a drawer, searching for the missing mate to the sock he was currently wearing.

“No I mean your _clothes_. You’re going to _melt_ , Enj.”

“It’s- _aha_!” He emerged victorious, waking a polka-dotted sick in Combeferre’s face. “I found it.”

Combeferre clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. “Congratulations. You know it wouldn’t be so hard to find your socks if you didn’t just dump them into the drawer instead of folding them.”

“What are you, some kind of cop? Shut up.” 

After hopping about a bit childishly, trying to pull his sock on, he looked back up at his friend. “Okay so- stop laughing at me!” He pouted, just a little bit, as Combeferre tried (and failed) to maintain a straight face. “It’s not that funny.”

“Imagine if the prosecutors saw you like this now. No one would be scared of you if the could see you jumping around failing to put on a sock! ‘That’s the feared Enjolras?’ They would say. ‘I thought he was a grown ass man?’”

“That’s why _you’re_ you’re allowed in my house and not the bastards at Sutton and Bartholomew.” Even though he was trying to be firm, Enjolras couldn’t help the smile creeping on his own face in turn. “Anyways, you were saying something about my clothes?”

“Yeah. Enj, you’re going to melt.”

“It’s winter, what are you talking about?” He looked out his bedroom window. It had begun snowing again about two hours before Combeferre had come over to help triple check that he had everything he needed for his upcoming case, and it didn’t show any sign of stopping anytime soon. Another white-turned-quickly-grey holiday season for New York, he supposed.

“I’m well aware.” Combeferre brought his attention back to the matter at hand. “But you packed for a New York winter, not a Texas one.”

“Oh, come on. Texas gets cold too.”

“If you consider a 40F low cold.”

“ _I_ get cold easily.” Enjolras wasn’t even defending his choice out of pride, but out of pure abhorrence for packing. If he admitted defeat, he would have to un- and then repack everything. And that just wouldn’t do.

“You’re just being obstinate for the sake of it now.”

“Maybe so, but it’ll be fine. If it does end up warmer than expected, I’ll just wear the sport coat or forgo the jacket all together. It’ll be fine.”

“Fine!” Combeferre zipped up Enjolras’ suitcase before throwing his hands up in the air. “You win, you stubborn shit. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

Enjolras grinned, fist-pumping in a juvenile show of victory. “This is why one of us works with metaphorical blades and the other with literal.”

“I’ll show you a literal blade.” Combeferre moved away from the bed and over to Enjolras’ desk, where a stack of files waited for his perusal. He read through them silently, lips pursed as he flipped page after page. As he did so, Enjolras moved back over to his suitcase, tugging at the zippers once more to make sure they were well and truly secure. He’d called Combeferre over to provide the third and final check of his case files. Enjolras had poured over them himself, obviously, and as his partner, Courfeyrac had as well, which only left Combeferre. He might not be a lawyer, but had gone over the two of his friends’ law books through university enough times to know what to look for, and Enjolras appreciated the security he offered. After he was confident that his bag was secure, he wandered over to Combeferre, resting his chin against his friend’s bicep.

“Well?”

“Everything looks to be in order. Seems open shut to me. Why do you have to fly all the way out there anyway? I feel like you could finish this office.”

Enjolras held out his hands and Combeferre set the files in his waiting arms. “Boss and J asked me to come out and actually look at the farm before passing any judgements. They said there’s things I need to see first. Besides, any excuse to get out of here for the worst of the winter is a good one in my books.” His friend chuckled before handing Enjolras the laptop bag he’d been looking for while talking. “Thanks.”

“You’d lose your head without me reminding you it was on your shoulders.”

“I know I know. What am I gonna do without you for two weeks?”

“You’ll survive. Now, is that everything?”

He surveyed the room, taking stock of the everything. “Suitcase, packed. Chargers, laptop, files, snacks, noise-cancelling headphones. Keys, wallet, phone in pockets.”

“Alright. Should we go wake the beast now?”

Enjolras snorted. “I don’t understand how he’s still sleeping. It’s like 2.”

“I’m pretty sure Courf is medically incapable of waking up before noon.”

“Is that your professional opinion?” 

“I’ve diagnosed him with Sleepy Bitch Disease. I’m afraid it’s incurable.”

“Unfortunate.”

They both paused momentarily before completely cracking up. Enjolras had to admit to himself that he was going to miss his best friends. But it was only going to be a couple weeks, and he was a big boy. Metaphorically speaking. Courfeyrac would be quick to point out that he was, in fact, a “manlet.” 

Maybe he wouldn’t miss them so much after all. 

“I’ll take your things out to the car for you.” Combeferre quickly volunteered, throwing Enjolras off balance.

“Th- Wait- Hey!”

“Have fun!” Ferre was already out the door and Enjolras could only shake his fist after him. 

“This is the black-on-black crime Fox News is always talking about!”

“Die mad about it!”

“I’m about to!”

With a sigh, Enjolras crossed the hall and gently rapped on Courfeyrac’s door. “Courf?” He waited a few moments before knocking again, this time louder. There was still no response though, so he gritted his teeth and pushed the door open. With the weak light that made its way through the curtains, Enjolras could make out Courfeyrac’s lumpy form hidden under his blankets.

“Courf?”

“Mrrmph.”

Well, no one could say he didn’t try. “Time to wake up!” He flipped the light on, slamming the door open against the door.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph what the hell?!”

“Good morning sunshine!” He smiled in the face of Courfeyrac’s angry, confused squint against the sudden light. 

“I’m going to kill you, and nobody in this entire city would fucking blame me. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“You promised you’d drive me to the airport today.”

Courf fell back against the bed with a groan, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the light. “Take a taxi. Drive yourself. Take a Lyft. Walk.”

“Courf. Courf you promised.”

After laying still a few moments, he threw back his covers and sat up. Enjolras didn’t avert his eyes, because it was nothing he hadn’t seen before, but he came close. “What happened to your clothes?”

“I didn’t want to wear them. Why am I subject to an early wake up and judgement?”

“Cause I love you and am worried about frostbite. Also it’s 2pm. Also also you know you hate all of those options.”

“Yeah, yeah. This is the cross I bear for being the only gay in all of New York that can drive.”

“Exactly. It’s your own damn fault you had to be an overachiever.”

Courfeyrac launched at pillow at him which he almost caught. Almost. As the pillow fell to the floor, Courf laughed and got up, pulling on clothes slowly. “I wouldn’t call ‘driving my tío’s truck through the Puerto Rico backwoods’ being an overachiever babe.”  
“There’s no need for semantics.”

“Jojo, our entire job is semantics.”

“More semantics that no one asked for! Don’t forget your scarf.”

“Thanks dad. Where’s Ferre?”

“He volunteered to take my stuff down to the car already.”

“Wow. Coward.” 

“That’s what I said. Anyways, airport time. Flight in four hours. Time to go.”

A now sufficiently bundled up Courf snagged his keys off the desk, jangling them at Enjolras. “Okay my little turtle-dove. Let’s get you to JFK. Because I love you and want you to get to your destination for free and safely. And also because I’m totally stopping with Ferre for boba on the way back.”

“If you really loved me, you’d stop for boba on the way to the airport.”

“I’m going to kneecap you and blame it on the goons at Sutton and Bart.”

“Hollow threats. Come on, I’m sure poor Ferre’s freezing. “

“Alright alright I’m coming hold your horses.”

They left the apartment quickly, opting to take the stairs instead of chancing the faulty elevator being broken again. Mentally, Enjolras made a note to get in contact with the landlord again, maybe threaten him with a lawsuit this time. It wasn’t fair to the residents that this shit still wasn’t fixed after about six months of solid complaining from everyone on every floor. As if reading his mind, Courf nudged him with his elbow. 

“Hey, you’re already on your way to a case, don’t start working on another one before you even make it out the door.”

“But-”

“Enj, I promise, I will take care of it while you’re gone. Capiche?”

“Caposh.” Enjolras smiled and bumped his friend back. 

When the got downstairs, Combeferre was patiently waiting for them in the lobby, scrolling through his phone. Courfeyrac and Enjolras exchanged a conspiratory look before Courf cried, “Incoming!” And took a running leap at Ferre, jumping onto his back like a koala. Ferre staggered for a moment before recovering, and he pocketed his phone.

“Good morning starshine.”

“Hell-o my love! How are you on this wondrous day?”

“All the better for having a grown adult land on my back with barely any warning.”

“Mmm you’re welcome.” Courfeyrac planted a comically loud, smacking kiss on Combeferre’s cheek before dropping down to the ground. “Okay! Shall we get this show on the road my lovelies?”

“Please.” Enjolras swooped in to recover his bags from Ferre. “Thanks, by the way, Ferre. Even if you did abandon me.”

“My pleasure. Now, shall we drive all the way to Queens?”

“You bet your sweet ass we shall.” 

Combeferre helped Enjolras toss his suitcase into the bed of the truck as Courfeyrac turned it on, warming up the old bucket. “Okay Jojo, let’s get while the gettin’s good. Squeeze in!”

Enjolras crowded onto the bench seat, scooching as close to Courfeyrac as he could to allow Combeferre to get in on the passenger’s side and close the door behind himself. It was a bit of a tighter fit now than it had been when they’d originally began crowding into the old truck back in their university days, but Enjolras enjoyed the proximity to his friends. Combeferre was apparently having similar thoughts, as he leaned his head briefly against Enjolras’. 

Courfeyrac must have noticed out of the corner of his eye, because he made the saddest noise. “Y’all need to stop or else I’m going to have to pull this car over right now.”

“Courf, it’s just two weeks. It’ll be over before you even know it, please don’t.”

“But it’s the longest any of us have ever been goooooooooooone.”

Combeferre frowned in confusion. “I flew back to Algeria to celebrate my mother’s fiftieth birthday this past spring Courfeyrac, what are you talking about?” 

“Yes, but you were only gone for like a week!”

Enjolras counted back on his fingers. You were in Puerto Rico for Christmas until the New Year.”

“You came with me.”

“I was in Haiti with my cousins for a month.”

“Ferre and I both flew out to come see you.”

The car fell silent for a moment as they considered the presented facts.

“We are...shockingly codependent my friends.” There was quiet, and then they cracked at Combeferre’s somber tone of realization, leaning into each other, or as much leaning could be done when they were already squished together.

“That’s what I was saying! We haven’t been apart for this long since I brought you both under my large, loving, parental wings in undergrad!”

“That’s certainly one way to describe what that was.” If they hadn’t been trying to nacigate their way through the absolute mess that was traffic, Enjolras was sure Courfeyrac would have made a series of wildly offended gesticulations that would just miss smacking him in the face. As it was, he made a similarly dramatic (and ear-splitting) wail. “And now my pajaritoitoito is leaving the nest and going to yeehaw land.”

“Two weeks, Courfeyrac.”

“So many weeks.”

“Two of them, even.” Combeferre added with a playful smirk.

“Fourteen days!”

“168 hours.”

“I can’t go any more than that ‘cause I can’t do math but yes.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure I get the point. Thanks, both of you.”

“All in a day’s work.”

They settled down as a song Courf liked came on and he shushed them to turn it up as loud as his terrible speaker system would allow. The rest of the drive to the airport was spent like this. It was of course paused when Courfeyrac stopped to get them all bubble tea, which was a sweet thing to do when Enjolras had only been jokingly needling him earlier. It was a lovely last surprise, and it meant that, when they finally pulled up in front of JFK, it was all he could do to keep his composure while his friends did their best imitations of boa constrictors and tried to squeeze the life out of him.

“I can’t come back if you kill me before I leave you two.”

“You hush and let us love you.”

“We’re loathe to let you go, especially when it means surrendering you to the TSA.”

The reminder of the security line made him groan out loud, and he allowed himself to be strangled for a few moments longer before disengaging. “Okay. Okay. Two weeks, you’ll see. I’ve got my suitcase, my laptop back, my phone. Have I forgotten anything.”

“You mean other than to take us with yo- Ow!” Courf threw a glare at Ferre. Ferre, who was withdrawing the weaponized elbow, shook his head.

“You have everything. Now go, catch your flight, let us know when you land.”

“Of course I will. Now I really have to go.”

“Adios! Au revoir! Aufwiedersehen!” 

All shenanigans aside, Enjolras was glad he had chosen to come to the airport as early as was reasonable. Even with the cushion of an extra hour and a half, it always took him forever to get through it, and today was no exception. After languishing in line, being stopped and unnecessarily groped by the TSA, and struggling to find his gate through the maze of reconstruction, he only had twenty minutes before boarding. Once he’d found himself a seat, he pulled out his phone to text Courfeyrac.

Enjolras: Remind me to draw up plans to sue the whole TSA please cher.

Cocobutter: lol k wll do/

Enjolras: why are you this way that you are

Cocobutter: u lv it. 

Cocobutter: Courf can’t text you anymore he has to start driving now. Safe flight.

He was unspeakably glad to finally board the plane and get himself settled in for the next three and a half hours. He had the good fortune to have landed a window seat, so he settled in and pulled the case files to review them once more. It was a good distraction from the feeling of rising terror that was beginning to simmer in his stomach as the plane taxied down the runway. As he read, Enjolras felt a familiar furrow in his brow. It was a fairly open and shut case, he had no idea why Joly and Bossuet were insisting he come down instead of finding any number of capable lawyers from the surrounding area. 

Maurice Grantaire, 37 years old, working on the cattle farm they’d inherited from some family member, unclear in the document who exactly had beqeauthed the title, now dealing with a claim of property invasion and vandalizing from a neighboring ranch, citing destruction of corporate machinery, animal cruelty, and destruction of crops. Even a first year pre-law could see the property dispute and the fact that this was nothing more than a land grab, and it was nothing that he himself specialized in, so he puzzled over the case, looking for _something_ that could be the loose thread that unraveled the whole thing. The only thing that really complicated the whole matter was a note in the file about locked records from a crime committed as a minor as well as some old public drunken disturbance charges. Enjolras wrote on a sticky note to remind himself to ask about those later. 

He looked over some other notes in the files as well, but he didn’t last more than an hour before the buzzing got to him.

Enjolras hated flying. Not because of the heights or anything like that. The cramped space didn’t even bother him. It was the constant, ceaseless buzzing of the engines that drove him up the walls. Even with his headphones, he couldn’t clock it out completely and it made him feel like crawling out of his skin. It didn’t help that the very nice but all too chatty couple next to him kept asking him questions about where he was going at what he did so that he had to lift up one earmuff every few minutes. Eventually it got so bad he couldn’t focus at all anymore and he closed the files with an extremely unsatisfying “ _schlump_ ” and he put them up before leaning back with a sigh to pretend to sleep. The last three hours of the flight dragged on unpleasantly.

He could’ve wetp with relief once the place hid the runway. He’d never been a plane-clapper, but he was close once the engines were off. When Enjolras settled into himself, he took his phone off airplane mode. The number of texts he’d received was almost comical. He forwarded anything work related to Courfeyrac, let Combeferre and Courfeyrac know he’d landed safely, and opened Joly’s message.

Jollygreen: Hey love! Be seeing you soon! Let me know once you land so we can get you out here!

He smiled to himself before pressing dial. The call picked up on the second ring, greeting him with a cheery “Hellooooooo! How was your flight?”

“Too long, I just landed, though. Shouldn’t take me more than maybe fifteen minute to go through the baggage claim and then I will wait outside. Will you be here soon or should I get myself lunch somewhere?”

“No, just look for the crummy old green pick up outside.”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose slightly. “Truck? I thought you were driving that little Prius thing. Did you sell it?” Joly laughed at that and in the background he could hear a few other voices. “Do you have me on _speaker phone_?” 

“Sorry! Yes I do. I need both hands at the moment.”

“Hi Enjolras!” “Hello!”

“Boss and Chetta say hi!”

Before he could respond, access to the aisle was opened up and he disembarked as fast as humanly possible. “Hello Bossuet, hello...Chetta? Joly who’s Chetta?”

“Oh shit I forgot we didn’t tell you about Chetta! You’ll love her, she’s a hoot.”

“Looking forwards to it. I’m just now arriving to the carousel though so I need to let you go. See you soon!”

“Haha, bye!”

Once at the baggage claim, Enjolras waited patiently for his bag to come around. And then waited some more. And then some more. When the bags had almost completely vanished and there was still no sign of his own luggage he quietly groaned and walked to the help desk. “Excuse me.”

“Bryan,” as the nametag read, didn’t even bother looking up from his phone. “Yeah, can I help you?”

“I just came in on the New York flight and it seems as if my baggage hasn’t come in yet. Is there some way I could check in or-”

“Name?” Bryan interrupted.

“Enjolras Jean-Baptiste.”

“What address can you be found at for the next week?”

He gave Bryan the address of the farm, ignoring the annoyed look he received when he realized how far out it was, and was handed a receipt. “We’ll contact you within the next 5-7 business days with any updates. Have a nice day sir.”

“But-”

“Next!”

Enjolras bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “Have a nice da.”

“Mmhm.”

Once outside he was taken about by how _warm_ it was. Maybe Combeferre _had_ been right, though he was loathe to admit it. Considering it’d been snowing when he’d left home, he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the weather. He scanned the line of cars waiting in the arrival zone, but saw no signs of Joly or Bosuett. At the sound of a honk that was really more of a wheeze, his attention was drawn to a dilapidated truck that didn’t even look like it could start, let alone drive. It may have been green once during the mid-20th century, but now it was mostly rust. Out stepped someone who was neither Bossuet or Joly.

“You Enjolras?” A voice called out, tearing Enjolras’ gaze away from the truck. At the sight of the voice’s origin, his mouth went dry. They were...big. Creaky baritone came from one most unique faces he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing. Every feature was slightly off center, and when they smiled at him, he could see one of their front teeth were chipped. It was a fantastic smile, and he immediately decided he wanted to see more of it. They were large, and Ejolras could tell that under the bulk, they were _strong_. Wild curly hair escaped from a tight bun and tan skin darkened under Texas sun put together a person that made Enjolras’ brain short out. Good _god_ was he _gay_.

“Uh…...yes.” Was his intelligent reply. 

“Joly sent me to come get you. They would’ve come themself but one of the horses is pregnant and having a bit of a rough one, so he had to take a look at that. Bossuet is helping, so I volunteered. Wasn’t like I was doin’ much anyways.”

“Oh, so do you work on the farm too?”

They threw back their head and laughed. “Sure do. Been thereabouts my whole life. Anyways, can I get your bags?”

Enjolras was suddenly reminded of the situation and he rolled his eyes with a huff. “I don’t have any. The airline lost it, so it won’t come in for a few days at best. One would think with all the money they exploit from people and not paying their employees, the would have enough to make sure people’s shit get where it is supposed to go.”

“There’s a Walmart just down the way if you need something right now.” They must have caught a look at the expression on Enjolras’ face before continuing, “Orrr I’m sure we’ve got some stuff at the farmhouse you could wear. Hop in though, cause either way we’ve got a while to drive.”

“Thank you, and thank you for driving out to get me. I know it’s distant from the farm.” Enjolras climbed into the truck, careful not to trip on the runner on his way in. He was thankful to see that there was air conditioning in the cab, already beginning to sweat lightly in his jacket and long-sleeved shirt.

“Aw, ain’t that big a deal. Like I said, I wasn’t doin’ much of anything anyways. Oh, uh, don’t know if you get hot easily, but the old girl’s AC broke a few months back, so if you want some air, you’ll have to crank the windows down. 

“Oh I see. Won’t you get cold though?”

“Don’t worry about me; I’m insulated.” They punctuated the remark with a slap to their belly and another laugh. Enjolras laughed along as he shrugged off his jacket.

“Okay then. And by the way, I never asked your name.”

“Hold that thought, better call the crew and let ‘em know you’re in good hands.”

“Allstate.”

“...What?”

“Allstate: Are you in good hands?”

“Oh! I forgot about those commercials.”

“It...my friend Courfeyrac says it ‘has good mouthfeel.’ I just think it sounds good. Sounds good sounds organic.”

“You don’t sound how I feel lawyers would talk.”

“I mean lawyers are people too. Some of them, anyways.”

“Fair enough.” They shifted the car into gear and pulled away from the airport, handing him their phone as they did so. “Could you open up the calls and dial the most recent number in that for me? I need to keep an eye on the road till we get outta here, this place is hell to navigate.”

Wordless, Enjolras did as asked, surprised to find that the phone wasn’t password protected. Still, he scrolled through apps on the phone to find the “Phone” icon and clicked it. The most recently dialed contact was just labeled “Jolibee,” which he assumed was just Joly, so he clicked it and handed the ringing phone back to its owner. 

“Thanks I app- Joly? Hey! Package secured, en route to the location now. No I- yes my tank is full. I stopped at the gas station on the way to the airport. Yes we’re fine. I-” They turned slightly to Enjolras. “You hungry?” 

“Yes, but I can wait.”

“Nah, we can grab something on the way back. There HolJol, taken care of. Speaking of, how’s my best girl?” They paused and listen to the answer, clearly relaxing once they heard it. “Okay good. Glad to hear it. Give her a sugar cube for me please. Anyways, we’re on route, everything’s okay, we’ll be there within time.” 

Joly must’ve hung up after that, because they slid their phone into the cupholder and let out a sigh of relief. Enjolras let the silence sit between them as they pulled onto the freeway, happy to have the time to gather his thoughts. 

“What do you have against Wal-mart?”

“Excuse me?” Enjolras looked at his escort, eyebrows drawn together. 

“What do you have against Wal-mart? Too many poor people for you? Too cheap? Do you only shop at department stores and boutiques?”

“I- what? You only know that I am a lawyer, why would you say that?”

“ _Because_ you’re a lawyer?” They said it like it was a foregone conclusion, and Enjolras pressed his lips into a narrow line. 

“Wal-mart is a terrible corporation that sucks the lifeblood out of anywhere it is and ruins the local economies by driving smaller stores out of business. It treats its employees like garbage, and although the owners are one of the richest families in the nation, they give nothing to anybody and do everything within their power to acquire more wealth. I have no problem with the people who shop there, even I do and did more often when I first moved to America, but I prefer not to patronize it because of that.”

He could feel his blood pressure rising a bit, and he had to bite his lip as he reeled it back in. No reason to get riled up over a regrettably valid assumption. A shitty assumption. But still. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to rub you the wrong way there. I didn’t mean anything by it, just wondering. But still, wrong of me to assume.”

Enjolras sighed. “There are many who do think like that, especially people of my own profession. I understand the sentiment.”

“Yeah. You said you were hungry, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Where you wanna eat? We’ll have to find a drive-in somewhere, but you can take your pick. You’ll get some ideas of what’s around on the exit signs.”

“Alright.” 

Enjolras kept an eye out on the exit signs they passed, not thrilled with any of the options. Eventually he had seen the “Whataburger” note enough time that he asked “What’s Whataburger?”

They gave a dramatic gasp. “You don’t know Whataburger?”

He gave them a dry look. “I live in New York and grew up in Port-au-Prince, no, I don’t know Whataburger.”

“I mean it’s just a burger joint but goddamn.”

“Let’s have that then.”

“You sure? You don’t have to pick it just cause I’m givin’ you shit.”

“I’m sure, let’s go there. Besides, I’m far too hungry to really debate anything.”

With a shrug, they pulled off of the next available exit. It took a few minutes for them to locate the restaurant, and even longer for them to decide who was going to pay. Enjolras wanted to pay for himself, while his temporary host was arguing for hospitality’s sake. They were between a rock and hard place, bickering in the parking lot, both with wallets drawn. Eventually the matter was solved in the most honorable of ways: Rock, Paper, Scissors. After he lost the first time, Enjolras demanded best two out of three, only to lose again. Begrudgingly, he put away his wallet, letting them pay. 

The ride was quiet as they both stopped talking to just eat. Enjolras was glad for the food, but also privately thought that it was for the best that Whataburger was banished to the far end of the country from him. Satisfied and satiated, Enjolras tucked the fast food wrappers back in the bag to collect and throw out later. They fell into a companionable silence even after they were done eating, and Enjolras rolled down the window to drink in the afternoon air as they drove further away from the city proper. He had almost fallen asleep when his companion cleared their throat.

“So what’s your deal?”

Enjolras looked at them in confusion. “My...deal? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” They took their hands off the wheel, gesturing vaguely around to everything. “I mean why fly all the way out to Bumfuck, Nowhere just to work this case? I assume you could’ve just finished this in a day in your office. Seems pretty open and shut case to me.”

They were _perceptive_ , too. Another point in the “Hot” column. He wasn’t going to admit that he’d been wondering the same thing, though, under _any_ circumstances. Better for them, and subsequently Grantaire, to think he had a Capital P Plan. 

“You’re certainly not _wrong_ , I could’ve. But Joly and Bossuet seem to think I needed to come and observe in person, and if they say that, I trust them. It doesn’t hurt that _when_ they wanted me to come out was the perfect time for a vacation either.”

He was met with a blank stare, so he quickly cleared his throat and clarified, “Sorry, that was a joke. I’m not on vacation.”

“Ah. My misunderstanding then.”

“Sorry, wasn’t funny.”

“Must be some of that ‘big city humor’ my Pa was always warning me about.”

“...What?”

They laughed again, and Enjolras’ knees went weak. “That was a joke too.”

“Oh! Sorry, I’m not great at jokes.”

“All good no problem. Anyways, how do you know my Jolibee and his faithful birdie?”

“They didn’t tell you? I was in law school with Bossuet once upon a time. And Joly came along when Boss fell into their arms. Literally.”

“The second part I can believe, _that_ sounds like the Bossman. But you’re telling me Bossuet went to _law school_?!”

Enjolras snorted. “Sort of. We were in the same year for most of the program, then there was some mix-up with the admissions office and suddenly he was missing some early-year or undergrad credits, I don’t recall which. But either way, he ended up in a 100-Level course. Which didn’t last very long as he was in a class of a very strict professor who had a mandatory attendance policy. Apparently this entry level student was running late so Boss said ‘Present’ for both names and was soon kicked from the course. Because that was the credit he needed and that professor was the only one who taught the class, and Bossuet had maxed the limit of credits he could transfer from a separate university, he really had no choice but to drop out. So.” He shrugged. “Almost a lawyer, but not quite. The irronicest- most ironic? The most ironic part of all of this was that the student Bossuet covered for was this stray Courfeyrac, a partner at my firm, had taken in, and is an intern for us now.”

First response was a long, low whistle. Enjolras just laughed at it. “I knew Boss’ luck was bad, but not _that_ bad, damn.”

“Right? I don’t think he was too distressed about it though. He was only in the school to make his father happy.”

“Yeah, sounds like him. How about you?”

“Me what?”

“Why’d _you_ become a lawyer? Your dad want you to be one too?”

“No. My parents wanted me to be a doctor. But I wanted to help people in a different type of way. So, law. There’s more to it that that, but I wouldn’t to bore you. I think I might have talked your ear off.”

“Naw, I like hearing you talk. But I won’t keep bugging you. ‘Sides, we’re here. Welcome to Open R Ranch.”

Sure enough, they pulled onto a long dirt path leading to a modest home, and behind the house, acres of farmland dotted with animals and what he assumed were most likely crops. It was his turn to whistle. The house was a one story building painted a faded blue, but it seemed well maintained. As they drew closer to the house, Enjolras could see the familiar shapes of his friends sitting on the porch, along with a few others. “Welcome to the farm. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“It looks nice.” Enjolras said earnestly. “I’m sure I’ll have a great time Thank you so much for coming to get me from the airport.”

“Least I could do. Go ahead and leave your window down too, I might want to come back out here later.”

“Okay. I will.” Enjolras grabbed his laptop bag and prepared himself for the upcoming assault.

“ _Enjolras!_ ” “ _Jojoba!_ ”

“My friends! How are you both? It’s been way too long! I’ve missed you!”

Bossuet tripped down the stairs coming to give him a hug, and Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief when he caught himself on the railing. He ran up to meet him on the stairs, embracing him in a big hug.

“Hey buddy! I’ve missed you too. Joly’s been practically vibrating out of his chair since this morning.”

“So has he! Don’t let him fool you! We’ve both been disasters!” Called Joly from his rocker on the porch. 

Enjolras migrated over to him next, waiting for his friend to get his feet and cane under themself. “I’ve been the same, I won’t lie. It’s been _ages_. How is your practice?”

“It’s great! Amazing how many people have pets when there’s more houses than cramped apartments in the area. And so many farms and ranches, I can hardly keep up. But I manage, of course. Especially with my lucky Leggy and of course the wonderful, stupendous, outstanding Musichetta.” 

He gestured grandiosely to a dark-skinned woman with a bright green afro. She was unbelievably tall, he could tell even from where she was sitting. Enjolrase extend a hand to her and she took it as she stood, surprising him with her vice-like grip. “I’ve heard as much about you as I assume you’ve heard about me but hi! I’m Musichetta, Chetta to my friends, and a ridiculous assortment of pet names and puns to my boy-ish-friends. I’m looking forward to getting to know you.”

“You as well. Do you work here on the farm?”

She smiled brightly and Enjolras could understand how his friends had fallen in love with her. She had a kind face and laughter lines that grew deeper as she smiled. He was glad they’d found another person to join in on their laughter. “No, I’m a fourth grade teacher in town. But we’re on break now so I came to help Jambo and Co with their horsing around.”

“She provides excellent _foaley_ work!” Bossuet crowed.

“A true rap- _stallion_ , our Muse!”

“Hay!” A familiar voice sounded, and Enjolras turned to see their mysterious drive come up to the porch. “It’s time for y’all to pony up and get to it!”

“Oh hush you.” Musichetta ruffled their hair, causing massive fly-aways to escape from their bun. 

“Grantaire didn’t give you any trouble, did they Enjo?” Joly asked, a twinkle in his eye that Enjolras missed in the wake in the wake of his own surprise.

“ _Grantaire_?!”

The person who was apparently his _client_ shrugged sheepishly and stuck their hands in their pockets. “Yup. Uh...sorry?”

“I mean...what?” Enjolras could feel his face heating up as he realized exactly _who_ he had been flirting with the whole to the farm. His brain was melting, his life was over. 

“Sorry I know I’m nothing like you expected probably. And uh, sorry for the lie by omission? I wanted to scope you out beforehand.”

“‘Scope me out?’” Enjolras was sure they meant it innocently, but in the tumbling interior of his thought process, he was sure he heard a _tone_ behind it. 

“Yeah, I wanted to see what kind of a person you were. And now I think I’m starting to get a vague idea. So. Come on. You’ve met Chetta already, but there are some other folks who actually earn their keep around here I want you to meet.” They laughed at Musichetta’s outraged “Fuck you too!” and led him to the other side of the porch. There was an incredibly...colorful person with dreads lounging across the porch swing, seemingly asleep.

“This is Jehan, my waif of a milk maid, xe helps with mucking out the stables, checking on the animals, milking the cows, obviously, and collecting the eggs. Xe also ran away from the circus a few years back, and despite our best efforts to give hir new clothes, xe still looks like it.” Jehan cracked one eye open, and although he was well dressed in many layers, Enjolras felt a bit naked as xe analyzed him. After it had gone on just long enough that Enjolras was about to say something, xe suddenly swung hirself up and stuck hir left hand out. 

“Jehan-with-an-H Prouvaire, xe/hir, I keep the fairies out of the milk.”

“Oh, uh, good job? Enjolras Jean-Baptiste, he/him.”

“Lovely to meet you, we’ll probably get along splendidly.” Xe withdrew hir had and returned to hir sleeping position, eyes closed once more. Behind Jehan was a man barely taller than himself but about twice as thick with muscles that indicated he _lifts_ , and enjoys it too. Next to him was a stockier person with a shocking crop of curly red hair and freckles that stood out against tan skin. 

“These are Bahorel and Feuilly, they do a lot of the heavy lifting around here, and Feuilly’s the one single-handedly keeping every piece of machinery on this place running far longer than God or capitalism intended.”

“It’s great to meet you both as well, hello.”

“Hey! Nice to you meet you, hope you don’t mind gettin’ a bit of mud on you.” Bahorel shook his hand, pumping his arm up and down excessively. “You know, I was almost a lawyer once.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, then I realized I hated it and did everything I could to quit the program, but apparently I showed ‘promise’ so they wouldn’t let me. So I dropped out of school altogether. Bailing hay? Much better.”

“It’s certainly not for everyone, so I’m glad you found something more fulfilling to do.”

“Spoken like a lawyer.”

At Enjolras’ look of confusion and vague offense, Bahorel waived him off. “Relax, I don’t mean nothing’ by it. I dunno, what do you think Feuilly?”

«Doesn’t seem like a douche. Well. Not a whole douche. The clothes were a bad idea for a farm though.» Bahorel laughed, a loud, bassy sound, and Enjolras flushed again. 

“I wasn’t planning on wearing this the whole time. I wanted to make a good first impression!”

Feuilly and Bahorel both raised their eyebrows in surprise. «You sign?»

«Not much, but I try. I think it’s important to know but I don’t get to use it often so I’m bad.»

«Obviously, but not bad. You just made mine and Rel’s lives a hell of a lot easier.»

“Now I don’t have to follow you around translating all day. Good news boss, you can’t get rid of me.”

Grantaire groaned playfully. “God dammit. Thought I’d finally pawned you off on someone else.”

“You wuv me, don’t deny it.”

“I’ve never harbored love for anything within this stone heart of mine. I would raz this place to the ground in an instant on a whim.”

Enjolras winced. “Not to kill the joy but I do have to ask that you don’t say things like that until all of this gets cleared away. Considering the type of charges being issued, it isn’t smart. Sorry. I know you were joking but court doesn’t and I’m liable. So.”

“No prob. Understood. Well, why don’t I show you where you’ll be staying and then take you round the farm? Or do you want to rest and do that tomorrow?”

“I assumed I’d be staying at a hotel?”

“What do you take us for, animals?” Joly gasped, wacking him playfully in the calf with their cane. “We Southerners are known for our hospitality.” He put on a heavily theatrical accent to emphasize their point, drawing a wide grin from Enjolras.

“Joly you’re from California.”

“Sorry, I’ve got Texan in my bones now. My lineage goes back generations in this prairieland.”

“You’re second-gen Vietnamese!” Bossuet laughed. 

“Stop ruining my fun! You’re terrible, all of you! I give you the food off my table, the clothes off my back-”

“Oh, speaking of clothes, Joly, my suitcase was lost. I’m unfortunately, uh, how is it? FOL?”

“SOL.” Jehan supplied helpfully. 

“Thank you. I’m SOL for the next few days until I can get mine back. Could I borrow something out of your closet until then?”

“Oof. I’d love to Angel, but you forget, I’m a little bird, and _my_ clothes will be too small.”

“Ach, that’s true.” Joly came in a good three inches shorter still than Enjolras, and much lighter. Even their clothes wouldn’t fit. And there went the last of their hope. “Thank you anyway.”

“Sorry.”

“Um.” Grantaire cleared their throat, looking mildly embarrassed. “If you don’t mind things big, you could borrow some of my work clothes. I know I don’t have anything that’ll fit you, but it’s better than running around butt naked?”

Behind him, he could’ve sworn he heard Musichetta mutter, “Country boys make due.” But when he turned around, she looked bored and quiet, just observing the situation. Deciding to ignore it, he turned back to Grantaire, “You sure it won’t be a problem?”

“Psshaw.” Grantaire hand waved his question away. “You’re not putting me out, I got plenty of clothes. ‘Sides, I’m doing you a favor, really. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Well, thank you then.”

“‘Course. Now let’s get you put up, yeah?”

“...Yeeeeeeesssss?”

The occupants of the porch laughed at that, and Enjolras joined in after a beat too. It was nice to know he was laughing with them, and not being laughed at. Grantaire opened the door for him, following closely behind. They yelled over their shoulder, “If I’m paying you, get back to work ya free loaders!”

“They seem like good people.” Enjolras offered once the door was shut behind them. “How long have they been on the farm?”

“Eh, Jehan grew up with me here, Bahorel’s comin’ on near 15 years I think? Feuilly works for the mechanic up the way that my dad was buddies with. Think he’s been comin’ round near 8...10 years now? Man that’s hard to remember. Been a long time. We got other staff of course. You might see George and Mary around sometimes, they’re really nice. Own the lesbian co-op down the road. Eponine and her gaggle of siblings come around to harass me and get some eggs, milk, and the like. But other’n that, that’s about it.”

As they talked, Grantaire led him through the house, allowing Enjolras to get a good look at it. It was a well-worn but well-loved space, kept fairly tidy but showed plenty of personality. “So how long has this farm been in your family?”

“Uhhhhhh. Hmmm. Four-iiiiive generations back. I think Great-great-grandma Reneé established it? Don’t quite remember all that though. I mean, a Middle-Eastern landowner out here was a bug fucking deal, but my head doesn’t go for numbers and dates ‘n all that. One of the reasons my dad never wanted to give me the farm.”

“Oh. I’m s-”

“And here’s your room!” They stopped in the back of the house and Grantaire opened the door. The room was a standard guest room, with a full-sized bed already made up and another door that Enjolras must’ve looked curious about, as Grantaire jerked their thumb towards it. “There’s an en-suite bathroom with a shower and everything. The wi-fi password is on the side table. Help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen, I’m cooking dinner around 7. Anything else?”

Enjolras did some mental math, ticking things off on his fingers. “No I don’t believe so? Thank you, again. This is much more than I expected honestly.”

“Ain’t nothin’. Figure if you’re gonna be out her here helpin’ us out, hopefully, I mean. We can afford to put you up comfortably for a couple weeks. I’ll let you get settled, and I’ll be by in a bit with some clothes for you too.” They clapped a had down on his shoulder, and Enjolras looked up, staring just under their eyes. They smiled warmly at him, soft and quick. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. My room’s just a couple doors down.”

“Okay I won’t. Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. Be seein’ you.”

And they left, leaving Enjolras staring after them in the hall. Once he got his wits about him, he went into the room and sat on the bed, depositing his bag next to himself. He flopped backwards on the bed and closed his eyes as he exhaled heavily. That had been a _lot_. His mind was swimming with the personal information he’d learned from all the people he met. He took about 15 minutes to decompress, listening to the faint hum of the air conditioner as he let his brain quiet down. When he felt stiller, Enjolras pulled out his phone and dialed Courfeyrac’s number. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor as the waited for the pick up.

“Hello Jojo! How is my bestest-estest friend in the whole world doing?”

“They’re _hot_!” He groaned. “I can’t deal with this!”

“What?” Courfeyrac stifled a giggle over the line, Enjolras _heard_ it. “Who’s hot, babe?”

“My client! This isn’t fair! This can’t be _legal_. Conflicting interests. They’re nice! They look like they could lift me with one arm! I’m going to be wearing their clothes because my suitcase got lost! Help meeeeeee.”

Combeferre’s voice crackled on the other end as well. “Are you going to die? Because I’m afraid I can’t be held responsible for any health conditions that murder you whilst you’re in Texas.”

“Courf am I on speaker phone? Why is everyone putting me on speaker phone today? Also I am being bullied, bullied by my closest friends, I cannot believe. You drive me over the edge, the both of you.”

“Relax my little angel food cake.” Combeferre and Enjolras both made noises of disgust at the nickname. “Oh hush you. Listen, it’s two weeks, you’ll live. I believe in you. Now, you said something about your luggage being lost?”

“Yeah, the airline lost it. They supposedly will deliver it in 3-5 business days, but given that today is Friday that’s a least a week. Cooooouuuuuuurf.”

“Enjolraaaaaaaas. You realize I’m on the other side of the country and therefore can’t help you, right?”

“Them...Big. And funny. And cute. And bought me lunch. I’m gaaaaaaay.”

“Yes, yes you are angelito. But also you’re a professional and you’ll live. Buck up, babe. You’ll be back before you know it.”

“I know.” Enjolras did his best to avoid sounding petulant. “Ugh. Anyways, Joly and Bossuet say hi. And they’ve got a girlfriend now. Her name is Musichetta, she’s a fourth grade teacher, and they’re all perfect for each other.”

Courfeyrac cooed into the phone as Combeferre said, “Please be sure to offer them my congratulations. She sounds lovely already.”

“She is. I also met a few of the staff, and they all seem nice as well. I’ll get a tour of the place today and start my investigations tomorrow.”

“Alright, sounds good. We’re going to go try and make dinner without burning down the apartment complex, so ttyl my dearest. And remember: Sí te puedes!”

Enjolras laughed. “Thank you. I love you both too. Talk later.”

The line clicked, signalling its end, and Enjolras stood, surveying the room. It was going to be a long two weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated and i can be found [here](https://theunacceptablepylades.tumblr.com) on tumblr or [@thedaedpoets](https://twitter.com/thedaedpoets) on twitter and if you like what i do, check my [pinned tweet](https://twitter.com/thedaedpoets/status/1081374361024552960?s=20)


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